Chapter Text
“You do not try,” snapped Alfred’s gym teacher after the student had unsightly retorted back, “You could’ve broken those records years ago. You do not put in any effort in your success. You have never struggled to earn. You only coast on your success.”
It was these words that had plagued the young American’s mind for the rest of the school day. When he got home, he sagged to his room, slumping onto his bed. His typically cheery smile finally melted off of his face as he willed himself not to cry. Alfred must’ve done something wrong, again. Would he ask them what he did wrong? No. Would they have told them if he asked? Based off of past experiences, also no.
Alfred reeled back into his thoughts, his memory. Where did he not put in all the effort he could? He really did try. He wishes he could just do like everyone else seemed to be able to do. However, he must be lacking if teachers, family, and friends were still saying he needed to actually try. He was trying! Wasn’t that what he was doing all along?
Tried out football, succeeding. Was a bumpy start, but he’s given them straight wins, so far. Tried out track, succeeding. Had to get into running in shorter bursts, but he’s broken so many records for his school. Tops his grades, pulled plenty all-nighters for all of his work. Tried to keep a happy and breezy personality. A comfortable face. Tried making friends and he’s made them.
So where had he gone wrong?
Alfred thought for a moment before crumpling in on himself. The sentence ‘You only coast on your success’ burned him in a not-so encouraging way. Coast? Was it because he was living underneath his powerful father? Was that it? Was he not independent enough? Alfred suddenly felt like he had been heavily ignorant of the less fortunate people of the school. It had to be something he said. Nobody didn’t have exactly the same opportunities, no matter what anyone said. Maybe he had been flaunting his easy life too much. Maybe this had been too easy. Everyone’s right; he’s been coasting on his success. There was no effort at all.
And so, ignoring the fact that the shadows that had started accumulating under his eyes, the dulling and paling of his once sun-kissed skin, and the sleep-depravity of his mind, he packs himself suitcase. No, maybe another bag. Strength resistance, he was going to put more effort in his sports activities. Maybe then he’ll get some approval. A suitcase, a duffle bag, and his backpack all saddled up, he headed to the bank to extract his apparently easily earned (somewhat meager and hard worked for) funds and searched for a small apartment near school.
He could do independence. He could do it. Alfred sent his brother a text that everything left in his room was now his. The American didn’t really have time for his video games anymore. Suddenly, he contemplated if he could take another job to pay for rent…
School rolled by again after the weekend came to a close. Alfred’s younger brother and twin, Matthew, ran up to him and slapped him clear across the face.
“What is wrong with you?!” he screeched. Since Alfred’s glasses had been knocked off and cracked (Matthew must be stronger than him, he thought), he couldn’t see the disheveled appearance that Matthew bore. His eyes were red, clothes were wrinkled, and was clutching his dying phone that beared Alfred’s last text.
“Matthew, where are my glasses?” Alfred scratchily responded. He didn’t sleep very well last night, after accommodating to his new surroundings and homework to top it off. He needed those no matter how cracked, to get through the day.
His brother about nearly screamed, but managed to strangle it down to seething tone, “No. No, you listen to me. For once in your life, listen to me!”
“I am listening to you,” Alfred responded tiredly and calmly.
Matthew was sick of hearing his brother sound like he didn’t want to talk to him, with that bored voice of his, whenever addressing him, “No, you’re not. You never are! Why did you suddenly move?! Why did you give me all of your stuff? Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
Alfred’s mind pulled a blank. For a split second, he was starting to think he should take up coffee to get more energy for the day, because he could barely comprehend what his brother was so angry about.
He shook his heavy head in an attempt to clear it before placing both of his hands on Matthew’s shoulders. Whether he did it to calm his hyperventilating brother or to steady his abused self, he didn’t know, “Matthew, can we go sit somewhere and talk about this? And please calm down. Your screaming is giving me a headache,” a really, really bad headache that he’s been getting a lot lately. Alfred just really needed to sit down before the room starts spinning.
The two sat on a bench outside the school before Alfred realizes that the sun was just starting to loom over the horizon. He turns toward his brother in confusion,
“What are you doing here so early in the morning?”
Matthew glares at him, “Shouldn’t I be saying that? I’ve been looking for you!”
“Ah, that could explain the lack of students,” good, he was here before the loud throng of students came. Maybe that was another thing he should fix; getting used to dealing with large amounts of people like a normal person. Huh, he starts planning getting to school on time like a good student.
“Alfred,” his brother starts again, more calmly, “Why did you leave? Where did you go, first of all, actually?”
Alfred stares Matthew in the eye in a way Matthew didn’t think he was capable of doing, “Somewhere nearby.”
“Where?” the twin prodded.
The other didn’t flinch, “If I tell you, you’ll break my door down.”
“I’ve already broken your door down!” Matthew hissed.
“No, you didn’t,” Alfred would’ve noticed on his way out.
Matthew’s eyes widened when he realized what Alfred was talking about, “No...no, Alfred. Wherever you’re living now...that’s not your door. That...That’s not your home!” he looked like he was on the verge of pleading tears. The indifference on his brother’s face worried him to an even higher degree. An actually pure dread of worry was infesting in Matthew’s mind.
“Yes, it is,” he said without missing a beat, “I’m paying the rent. I’m living by myself, independently. I’m carrying my own weight and dedicating myself to school, studies, and sports. Aren’t you proud of me? I’m out of underneath Father’s paycheck.”
The younger twin flinched at the last sentence. Of course, there was no mention of their Father. He could personally care less if Alfred had left the house. Their mother couldn’t care because...well, she’s in a better place, that’s for certain.
It didn’t change the fact that their Father was rich and pretty much gave them whatever they want without hesitation. Even though the twins used this privilege sparingly, it appeared that one of them thought he wasn’t using it sparingly enough.
“Think about it, Matthew,” Alfred said, “I’ll go to administration and be under a different name. It’ll make things easier. You won’t be under my shadow and won’t be so arrogant. I’m very loud, aren’t I? Loud isn’t very good, is it. I won’t be so loud. In fact, I’ll be quiet. You won’t even hear that I did anything bad the rest of highschool!”
Matthew and Alfred were in their sophomore year of highschool. They have two years left and were in the middle of their current one. Matthew lowered his gaze. His shoulder start shaking. Alfred realized that his twin brother was laughing. Suddenly, he threw his head back in great peals of ringing noise, crying as his sides hurt in dark humor. Matthew takes off his glasses and wipes them of tears.
“Fine, then,” he spat with a cruel smile on his face, “Have it your way, then. Let’s see how long you go for.”
Maybe it was from the competitive side that his now former self had, but little did Matthew know, Alfred was taking this newfound lifestyle very seriously.
~~~~~
It was graduation time. There was some sort of miasma hanging over the school as people filed into the gymnasium, wearing their grad capes and hats. It started around the students’ junior year when they felt like there was a certain someone not being his normally cheery and boisterous self. When they had asked him something, he wouldn’t respond. He’d be studying, studying, studying. If he wasn’t doing that, he’d be training. It was like he didn’t even go to the bathroom.
The student in question was Alfred. He had brought in his own lunch. A rather healthy diet, despite his alarmingly thin and albino pale build. He only responded academic questions that they teacher would ask in class. He’s joined every sport and extracurricular activity that he could squeeze into his extremely cramped schedule and excelled tremendously. People knew him for his achievements. His heights of perfection. His...silence. It came around the time of his fourth year as a senior that people started noticing that he had stopped talking altogether.
At that point, Matthew had gotten desperate to get some sort of reaction from the ray of neverending sunshine that once was his brother. Alfred wouldn’t say, react, nor respond to any of it. Their lone father had started reacting about midway through the third year and had tried to snap his eldest son out of his robotic habits. Therapy did squat. Talking obviously did nothing. Alfred just...dedicated himself to everything but...actual living.
Now, here he was stepping up to receive his diploma at the top of his class and his school. It was raining outside with rain pelting the window panes. The subtle peels of thunder that rang outside complimented the pitter-patter that was the clouds’ tears, as if openly reflecting the hearts of many of the students that knew Alfred before the last of his sophomore and beyond. The silent American walked up to the podium at the sound of his name. Just the announcement of such a name felt like a taboo within the school. Just the mention of it seemed to wrack a shaky and unsettling feeling in a lot of the veteran students, teachers, staff, and parents. A screaming and tearing feeling that reminded one of the sensations of beginning to cry, but stuffing it down way below, displaying a forlorn and crushed expression.
That’s what everyone looked like as the principal handed Alfred’s diploma into the teenager-now-adult’s hands. They looked gaunt, well-worn to caloses. The bony fingers shakily held the rolled up piece of paper that was secured with a delicately tied blue ribbon, knotted in a beautiful flourished bow. Alfred stared at the hand that was later presented to him. Oh. He was now supposed to shake the principal’s hand.
Everybody watched with bated breath. Anyone could tell that the principal looked like he was hesitating and getting nervous under the silent student’s intense gaze at his open palm. Matthew felt his heart brittle and crack as he and his steadily crumbling father, along with the rest of the shattering student body, watch Alfred slowly extend his hand out to the principal only to retract it back to join the other hand clutching the heavily worked-for diploma. He backed away from the principal.
It seemed like everyone’s eyes had widened with unsuspecting tears when they finally heard something from the usually mute American. It was just too bad that his words were just the misery to top this drab graduation ceremony.
“...I have not struggled enough.”
~~~~~
“Who are you?” Matthew walked into his house after getting home from work. He was exhausted and tired and honestly wanted to get some light dinner then go to sleep. The man enjoyed his job, but honestly, it was a bit much for a 34-year-old man to do.
The person in question was a short, young man...woman? Teen? It was hard to tell. They had shortly cropped black hair, warm brown eyes behind rectangular glasses. The person was wearing a black jacket that complimented their monochrome color scheme.
It was the long and sturdy-looking...shotgun? No, the model was different. It was the musket that the person was holding and their...familiar empty and glassy eyes that seemed to hold Matthew in place.
“Hello, Matthew,” the monotone voice greeted as if their being there was of the norm.
Matthew felt his blood freeze in his veins.
“I’m sorry it took me such a long time to come to you,” the person spoke with an indifferent voice, so it didn’t sound very sorry, nor vice versa, “I had some conflicts concerning the approaching of you and this conversation.”
The man’s back was pressed up against the door now, staring at her with such naked fear. How did they get into his house? What were they doing standing in his foyer? What were they talking about? Did he know them?
The person glanced away from Matthew and turned toward a window that was behind them. Drizzle was melodically thudding outside. It was calming.
“I’m here in the place of someone who couldn’t come, himself.”
Matthew bristled, “What are you talking about? Couldn’t you have...you know, left me a voicemail or something-?”
“No, this is something that shouldn’t be discussed over the phone nor any other kind of electrical device, Matthew,” they cut in, “and I am sure once I start addressing these matters to you, you will agree.”
No response. After a short nod, the person turned back toward Matthew. A flash of thunder echoed behind the stranger, emphasising the emptiness in their figure.
“...He loved you, you know.”
A moment of confusion, “What?”
“He wanted your approval. He tried so hard. Apparently, not hard enough is what he told us.”
Matthew was so confused about what they were talking about. This was apparently
affecting the person in some way.
Irritation that was so subtle that Matthew nearly missed it was evident in their voice, “Are you meaning to tell me that you-”
“I’m sorry...stranger,” Matthew abruptly spat out, “I don’t know who you’re talking about and...I want you to leave my home. You’re technically breaking and entering.”
Slowly, their eyes start narrowing, lifting their chin in a seemingly arrogant manner, “Then I’ll make this quick.”
They stepped forth, their footsteps not making a sound on the hardwood floor that made up Matthew’s foyer. The creaks that were supposed to cue their movement was not there. Was this stranger even here? Was Matthew hallucinating? Why hallucinate something that he didn’t even know what they were talking about?
“You do not need to know my name, but you may refer to me as Aquilla, should we engage in conversation in the future. Believe you and me, neither of us wish for that possible outcome to happen.”
“I am here to address the matters of your elder brother Alfred.”
Matthew’s face paled. No. Why now? Why was he suddenly getting this now? All that therapy and recovery only to get confronted by...a hallucination. That’s what this was. A hallucination, “You..You’re not real. I’m hallucinating, I-”
“I am not a hallucination, Matthew,” they cut in seamlessly. The way their voice dipped a little in tone shook Matthew to the core.
“My deepest apologies, Matthew,” they continue, “for the unfortunate happenings to your brother Alfred. He wanted you and a few others to be enclosed with this information.”
The stranger, Aquila, apparently, watch Matthew looked like he was having a heart attack. A million things were running through the younger twin’s mind. Dead? Alfred dead? No, wait, didn’t he-?
“Should you see more of us, you’ll know that they’ll refer to him as Podsol. He was very dear to us as we hope he was to your side of the family and more. Do not ask any questions, Matthew; I thought you wanted to make this quick so I may dismiss myself.”
The words died in his throat at their behest. They continued, “Apologies for the confusion. I am told to say the information in this order.”
“Your brother has asked me to address to you and a few others from the highschool from your past a meeting at a secluded area. However, due to the unfortunate circumstances of Podsol, we are uncertain that you wish to come-”
“Take me to him.”
Matthew and Aquila stared each other in the eye. While Matthew was struggling to fix them with a hard and demanding glare, Aquila just gave him a blank face. He figured that they were just contemplating on his words. Maybe they weren’t expecting him to accept? Or...maybe they were?
“...Very well, Matthew,” Aquila pulled out a manila envelope with an intricate wax seal and ribbon on it.
After handing it to Matthew, the man was able to see that the seal was of this pearly royal blue wax. The ribbon was of simple looping, a bronze and gold-dusted, thin little thing. The emblem stamped on the wax was a detailed engraving of a caged butterfly.
Carefully prying off the wax seal and ribbon, Matthew slowly pulled out a yellowing letter with delicate script in blue ink. The whole thing looked like it had been waiting for Matthew to open it for two centuries; it was that old looking.
Dear Matthew,
If you’re reading this right now, you’ve entered the World Summit Game. I don’t know if I should feel wholly concerned and frightened or resigned and accepting. All I want you to know is that if this is the future that is set, I have fallen. Don’t take this personally, considering that this and that entire ordeal was my fault and I blame myself for all the damage that has been dealt and damage that is to come. Bad things are about to happen and I’d hate for any of you to get hurt. However, this must take place, sadly. I can’t tell you the reason why it must be this way. Chances are, is that all of you will find out by the end of the games.
That is if all of you manage to finish these game.
Your Trying Brother,
Alfred
Alfred.
The one person that had been haunting Matthew for the longest time. Why was he getting this? Aquila did say that they had some difficulties or something getting here and addressing this to him.
“The letters were buried in a certain location that I am unable to reveal,” they explained, answering a lingering question that hung in the air, “You’ve been there before, haven’t you,” it didn’t sound like a question, which only made Matthew feel the accusatory more.
“...I have not struggled enough.”
Is it their turn to struggle? Matthew folded and tucked the letter into the breast pocket of his suit jacket.
“Alright, let’s go.”
Aquila tilts their head in an amused manner before quelling back into an indifferent face.
“Very well, then.”